


blue veins

by blahthelarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Nightmares, Public Hand Jobs, Street Racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:50:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4035823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blahthelarry/pseuds/blahthelarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam finds it hard to stay away from danger.</p><p>(or the fic where Zayn is a waiter, a street racer, and heaven all at once and Liam is a clueless mechanic with a dream)</p>
            </blockquote>





	blue veins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [underscoredom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/underscoredom/gifts).



> Thanks go to Dani for beta'ing. I'm a huge procrastinator so it kind of went down hill after the first half.

The last time Liam had a nightmare was three years ago. Three years was a long time, but to Liam it felt longer. It was an infinite amount of time, twice as harder to endure, and three times harder to forget. In those three years he had tried to forget about his drunk father, his runaway mother, and the fact that he was no better than them.

The last time Liam cared about living was a long time ago.

In all, he could say that his past made him who he was today. A strong young man, working his days in the small mechanic shop in the downtown of Rover City. But it was not how he described himself. The owner of the shop Crank, Ben Winston, knew the boy was shy and a little unappreciative of himself. He should know since he was the one to take him under his wing after he was thrown out onto the street. And though Liam would never admit it, both of them knew he was thankful.

Liam woke up with a start. His heart pounded against his rib cage, beating loudly in his ears. He could feel the blood rush to his face, his eyes burning and tearing up. A shaky breath rocked his body and he tried to regain himself. Flashes of the dream came back to him: a man walking towards him, no face, only a haunting white smile. It shouldn’t scare him. He wasn’t a little boy anymore; it was only a dream. But the reassurance didn’t mean anything at that moment. 

Running a hand through his hair, Liam threw his sheets to the side, climbing out of the small bed. The bathroom was only a few feet away, but through the dark, it felt like it was miles away. After stumbling and knocking into his dresser, he finally made it, flicking on the light and turning the faucet on until he was greeted by the rush of cold water. His hands splashed the cool liquid upon his burning face, a rush of relief taking over him. It wasn’t enough to calm his mind; he was still afraid to glance back out to his bedroom. The dark lurked behind him and it knew that it held power over him.

“Calm. Keep calm.” The words bounced off the white walls and when he looked up into the dirty mirror hanging above the sink, he swore he could hear the words through his eyes. It was another thing he could never get used to. Living here, living a good life, was never something he ever believed would come true. Yet, he dreamed he could overcome this fear and he dreamed he could one day escape from himself.

He laughed.

Like that would ever happen.

 

The night was young; a light green car zoomed past two boys leaning against a jet black car, sipping beer from the can and grimacing from the taste.

“He’s pushing her,” the blond one said while chugging the last of the bull piss. “If he keeps doing that, she’s not going to last.”

“Doesn’t seem to be in his right mind today.” The other shoved away from the car, tossing the can of beer to the side of the road. He frowned as he jogged to the center of the lane, watching the car disappear into the black abyss. “And you’re right. He’s not acting like himself.”

 

Zayn was sure he was the fastest racer in Rover City. He had not come across anyone else who could out drive him since he took up the illegal hobby when he was a Sophomore in high school. Six years have passed and nothing has changed except for the fact that he races more for money rather than the fun of it these days. That’s one thing he learned from over the past few years: when you’re an adult it’s all work and no play.

Maybe that was why he holding onto his past with an iron grip. He wasn’t ready to fall to the deep hole of responsibility and structure. Where he lived was too big for that. The only thing he had here was the welcoming comfort of racing. And it was a little immature to think he could get away with doing this for the rest of his life. He might be young at heart and a little reckless, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew it was going to end at some point. He just didn’t want it to end right now.

So, he got a job.

“A job’s not going to fix everything,” Niall, the blond and yet the smart one of the trio, had said when he announced his brilliant plan to the two others. 

Louis was too busy surfing through porn to take notice of the conversation going on around him. He mumbled under his breath, book marking a video that had too many cuss words in the title to count. Zayn had to hold back a grimace at the lack of privacy the older boy had. 

He never did reply to Niall. His mind had drifted to other things, like how Louis even found a video that contained a whisk and a cucumber. Though that put aside, there wasn’t anything stopping him from thinking about the dawning question. What was he thinking? A job? How had he settled for such a solution he knew was never going to work?

Even he was lost to the question. One day he had stumbled upon a HELP WANTED sign posted on a electrical pole; he called the number, set an appointment, and before he knew it, he was working for the cute shop down the block. It’s name Little Mary’s. 

To him it was not much work rather than an excuse to slack off and get paid for it. Most of the time he could be found lighting it up behind the dumpsters. If he wasn’t doing that then he was talking shit with the customers while pretending to be taking their orders. It came to a surprise to Mary, the owner of the proud business, that Zayn was actually good at socializing. At first glance he was assumed to be quiet and a loner for the most part. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth either. No one was ever quite sure what it was about him that would draw their attention. He was beautiful, yes, but there was something else. It was always lost on them and the boy himself had never taken notice of it. 

Until Mary had said something about it.

“Those girls have been here all evening,” Mary said to him, leaning over the counter and tilting her head towards the girls in question. “They’ve been staring your fine self down the entire time. Got the giggles, too, I reckon.”

Zayn ignored her at first, carrying on with washing the last few bowls. When he glanced up, she was staring at him. “Your accent is coming out.”

Her lips peeled back in a snarl. “Shut it, lover boy.”

A faint smile crossed over his lips before he replaced it with his usual stoic look. She was right of course. They were watching him work with hungry eyes. He didn’t mind, at least not until they started making it obvious to the other customers because then he had everyone’s eyes on him. Attention was always something he had to deal with, but never to a great scale as this. Attracting one or two people was entirely different than drawing a whole diner full of people to you. 

He wasn’t sad when the herd of girls finally left. 

So maybe he had a knack at being distracting. He was sure there was no use for the annoying skill; how was he even suppose to use it? Settling on that conclusion, in which the talent was of no use to him, he pushed it to the back of his mind. Stored among other things such as useless math rules and knowing the atomic number for Magnesium, it became a forgotten nuisance. 

 

Liam liked to think he was sneaky, that he had the abilities of a skilled ninja. At some point, he was sure he had actually believed he could slither up to someone and kill them using only his pinkie. He had been a fool because if that were true, he would have never been in this awkward situation.

“You were staring at him! I saw you with my own eyes!” Harry jumped up with excitement, his cheeks flushing red and his dimples protruding due to his wide smile. 

“Stuff it, Styles!” Liam smacked the boy’s hands, holding them down by his waist. The boy continued to jump and squeal at the possibility that his best friend had a crush, not at all affected by the endless assault. 

Liam was not staring at him. It was an innocent gaze out the window. And if he could see the sun kissed boy leaning against the building across the street, it was only coincidence. Harry didn’t seem to believe that at all. 

He stuck his head out to get a better view of said subject. “He’s very pretty indeed. You’ve got a good eye, my friend.”

Giving a smack to Harry’s head, Liam closed the curtain. “Go back to front. I’m sure Ben is looking for you.”

The younger boy rubbed his sore head, frowning down at him. “No one’s here! I don’t need to mind the shop front!”

“Stop arguing.”

Harry stuck out his tongue and before Liam could pop him one again, he sped off to the front to mind the cash register. When he was gone, Liam sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was exhausted. Due to the surprise nightmare, he hadn’t gotten much sleep. In fact, he hadn’t gotten any sleep in the last week. 

With a frown, he slid the curtain back a tiny bit. Through the tiny opening he caught the last moments of the tan boy, smoking lazily on a cigarette. Taking a drag he would tip his head back, the smoke trailing out of his mouth. It had Liam mesmerized, watching the smoke curl in the air and then disappear. Every movement the boy made felt more sexual than the last. Like the way his hand would settle over his stomach as he inhaled, fingers rubbing at the thinly clothed skin; his eyes would droop as if he were in the land of bliss.

Liam refused to think those were the reason he was becoming red face or that his heartbeat was racing. It just wasn’t right.

He closed the curtain with a yank and left in a haste.

 

Liam tried to keep his mind focused on his work, oil changes, changing tires, and what not. He had been doing this for the last few days; it wasn’t like he was a newbie who was too curious for his own good. But something had changed from this morning to the afternoon. He had an idea as to what had caused the change. Though he could have confronted the thing that was on his mind for the last four hours, he wasn’t going to do it. Even if that thing was just across the street.

He hated it really, sitting around and letting his mind wander to nonsense things. It was a bother and it was a waste of time, but when the day went on as sluggishly as it did today, it was hard not to become bored in a matter of minutes. So there he was, leaning over the front counter, doodling on a receipt a customer had left behind, while Harry talked his ear off. It wasn’t as bad as he was making it out to be. The young lad had a mouth on him and boy did he use it. 

“But Eleanor brought up the rumors floating around school about kids sneaking off campus to go see racing,” Harry told Liam as he cleaned up the counter, washing it down with a damp towel. “At first I brushed it off because I was like ‘eh, kids will be kids’ and all that kind of bullshit.”

It was one of those moments where Liam was listening, but then again, he wasn’t. He started to zone out the younger boy’s voice just as he was jolted out of his daydream. Harry bumped him with his hip, not realizing that the older lad hadn’t been listening to him.

“There were tall girls making out with each other, everyone drinking, except for the drivers of course, and they were all showing off their cars!” Harry’s excited voice echoed in the small front, drawing Liam in with every description. Through the young boy’s fast talking, he had become interested in the subject. What did one expect from a mechanic? He loved cars.

Resting his head on his elbow, he asked, “You’ve been to one of these races?”

Almost instantly, the smile dropped from Harry’s face, his lips working down in a frown. His eyebrows furrowed; by the look on his face, it was already known to the other that he had not.

“Um...no.” He paused for a moment, scratching his forehead. “But I’ve heard a lot from Eleanor, you know? And sometimes I get sucked in and it’s so fascinating. I can’t stop myself from...you know...thinking about what it might be like if I was there.”

In some way, he did know what he was talking about. The feeling of being lost into something great and exciting. Long ago, he had the same feeling about working on cars. He would get lost in his work and block out the world. It was just him and the car; it was a connection he had lost among the way, but he could still feel it deep inside of him. Only now, it was a dull pulsing sensation.

“I know what you mean,” he finally said and it gave him the satisfaction he needed at that moment. However, he knew it would not last and he would carry on to seek for something greater to keep his mind off of the bad things in life. 

He was just afraid what that something might be. 

 

“What?”

“I said, Little Mary’s is closing.”

It was like the world was ending. Zayn felt light headed, dizzy, and like he was going to throw up his insides all over the counter, but because he was high he hadn’t eaten in the last two days. Denial was the first phase. That’s how it always starts anyways. A truck load of shit is dumped on you and you just make yourself believe that it’s not real, that this is not happening to you because it’s always other people and not you.

The second phase is depression. You become sad and lonely. You don’t want to talk about the problem because it reminds you of bad feelings. That’s the third phase: block it out. And maybe the phases will help, but at some point they’re going to fail. After that, you’ll become numb.

For Zayn, the three phases happened in a matter of minutes. 

“You’re fucking lying.”

“I’m not.”

Mary reached out for him, but he turned away from her, ripping off his apron and jumping over the counter. He was mumbling to himself, not even realizing how childish and irrational he was acting. It didn’t matter to him because his world was ending. Though it must be stupid to think this diner he had only been working for a few months was his world, he didn’t give a damn. Like racing, it made up for the shitty real world he lived in. 

“Sugar, don’t act that way. It-It’s gonna be okay.” She was trying. In her mind Little Mary’s was just a failed dream of hers like her marriage and her dream about having a family. She didn’t appreciate the small business like Zayn did.

But he had to remember that Mary didn’t think like him. No one thought like him. And it’s hard to understand his thoughts at times but he knows this can’t be the end for him. He had to do something if he wanted to make it a few years because racing was ending and his life was ending and everything was fucking ending.

Take a deep breath. Calm. Stay calm.

Strange things start to happen when he gets like this. The gears in his head start spinning out of control, like the wheels of a drifting car heading towards a crash; it’s too much to slam on the breaks and the steering wheel is locked in place. Either he jumps out or he crashes. 

No one can blame him when he actually considers dying.

His fingers stumbled for a cigarette. After finding a match, he stroke it against his boot, lit the cigarette, and slipped the slim stick between his lips. Of course it was raining outside and he couldn’t get it to stay lit because the world just loved shitting on him. It was okay though because smoking only made him more angry. 

So he walked away from the diner, away from downtown, and away from it all. It almost felt like a joke to get so upset about something so unimportant. He had no fucking idea where he was heading, but he knew he couldn’t stay here. The weight on his shoulders was getting heavier each minute and he was tired of it all. Sometimes he really did think he screwed his life up and other times he thought that maybe it wasn’t him; it was the world that made living hell. 

With his head down, his damp hair hanging down in his eyes, he watched his feet stomp across the pavement, dodging each crack and every hole like lava. He would never hide the fact that he still played this game with himself, hoping to hold onto the last shred of childhood innocence. If he ever stepped on a crack he would lose. A tingly sensation would start at the bottom of his feet, making its way up through his legs, and then it would stop. Just thinking about it gave him the chills, but he fought them off, clenching his teeth and trying so hard to concentrate on not messing up his pattern.

Then, before he could do anything, he found himself in an unfamiliar location. The buildings were tall, windows dirty with grime, and moss grew on about every clear surface. In the air hung the smell of smoke, just barely there but heavy enough to make his eyes water. 

A moment passed. His pink tongue lick around the cigarette butt, his teeth scraping it slightly. As if in a trance, he stepped towards one of the buildings, a two story gray one with busted out windows. It wasn’t necessarily deja vu he was feeling; it was more of a sense of belonging. Of course he was not going to believe any shit such as that, but he did have to wonder why he was getting this sort of feeling. 

A sense of belonging. It was almost like the first time he stepped out onto the race track, not expecting anything, but receiving a rush fool of feelings, ones that shook through him like a hurricane. The more he looked at the sad little building the more it started to look like Little Mary’s. 

 

He was doing it again, running from his problems, but never really getting anywhere. In the driver’s seat, going one-hundred-twenty down a deserted dirty road outside of the city, he was running from a beast that didn’t exist. There was not anything to it; if he stopped then it would consume him and push him over the edge where he will never return. Thinking about it was not going to solve his problems, the problems Little Mary’s helped since racing stopped giving him a fix. 

It was sad to think the thing he loved was becoming his downfall. He was addicted to the rush it had once given him; now that it was gone though, he was coming down with painful withdraws. 

His teeth clenched as he turned a sharp corner, missing a street sign by an inch. With a firm hand on the steering wheel, he changed gear. For a second, he could feel the rush soaring through his veins, tugging at his heart strings, and making his stomach grow butterflies. Though he could feel it in the distance, reaching his hand out to grasp it, the feeling would never get closer, only farther away. It made him frustrated, angry he couldn’t receive the high he desperately needed.

The car lost control.

He threw his hands behind his head, his foot slamming down on the accelerator. All he wanted was to get fucking high! To feel freedom again. It was a loss cause; he finally understood he could do nothing about it. And when he started to think things were getting better, when he thought he might have a fucking chance at surviving, it’s all destroyed. 

He’s whining and he hates whiners. 

His foot eased up and the car rolled to a stop. Smoke drifted up around the windows, clouding his view; it didn’t matter. He wanted the world to go away anyway.

 

Zayn was not happy. 

He hadn’t taken a shower in days, his feet hurt, and he spent the whole night racing his anger out which did not help smooth him out. Even so, his buddies dragged him out the next day to a rookie race off. Though most of the times the races took place at night with hot babes and enough alcohol to get an elephant drunk, this puny idea of a race was in the middle of the day, out in the desert and filled with young high school students. The stakes were just as high and the side party was still just as wild, but it was missing the true reason Zayn had started racing for. 

Here, it was all about looking cool; there, it had been about being free. 

It was not his place the judge the kids; they were only starting out and it was harmless.

At least, that’s what it looked like.

“Ah, remember when we use to be like them,” Louis said, folding his arms behind his back, stretching his limbs. “We were quite the fuckers.”

Niall laughed while shading his eyes from the glaring sun. “Everyone used to be so pissed off at us because we started shit all the time.”

The oldest nodded in agreement, smiling wide as two tall blond girls strutted by, not shy to wink at the flirty boy. “Yes, we were something back then. Right Z?”

Lost in the moment, the black haired boy agreed even though he wasn’t paying the boy any attention. His eyes were trained on the two boys exchanging words by a red car. They were too far away to hear them, but Zayn was certain who they were.

Unlike many thought, Rover City was not immune to the association of gangs. It was common knowledge to every kid and every adult that their beautiful home was ruled by an underground working gang: the Coyotes. 

It’s not a legend and the identities of the members were not kept to a hush-hush. Most wore their name proudly, telling whoever would listen, which didn’t seem to be a very good idea to Zayn. But it was none of his business. The only reason the gang was left alone was because the police didn’t want to start trouble and there was no other competing gang. There was no action of any sort for the Coyotes to run after.

And that is what brought them to the racing scene.

After awhile he was sure the gang had become tired of sitting around and spray painting their name on bridges. What they were searching for was some fun, some real competition they would not be able to find anywhere else. He was not bitter with them, but he did find it annoying how they seemed to think they owned a place in street racing. Even though he claimed the track was open to everyone, he shut it down when it came to the trouble making kids. 

One of the two boys glanced over towards him, having gained the boys attention from staring too long. He faked a cough, turning back to act like he was talking to Louis and Niall. The boy’s eyes burned into the back of his head and he had to resist the urge to itch the spot. The longer he felt uneasy by the boy’s stare, the more he felt like throwing up; that combined with the blazing heat made it all the more unbearable. 

He knew him alright. Matthew Stanley was his name and he sure wasn’t a stranger to anyone in the racing community. In his eyes, Stanley was a threat; a threat to what was unknown. By now, Zayn accepted the fact that he knew nothing about his feelings and decided it was best to push them away, even though that might be the problem.

“Shit.” Louis sighed. “He’s walking over here.”

It was then that he finally zoned into the conversation, finding out too late the man he had been thinking about was heading towards him. The first instinct was to run; the second was to beat the shit out of the guy because he was angry. He was not mad directly at the man, but he did piss him off enough for him not to feel sorry if he killed him. 

“Well, aren’t you a look for sore eyes.” He didn’t have to turn around to know whose voice it was. 

Putting up a fake smile, he turned around. “This isn’t the first time another man’s hit on me.”

“I’m sure it isn’t, doll.” Matthew Stanley was not much to look at himself; he was not ugly either. He was somewhere lost in the middle; a man that no one would notice if it wasn’t for his attitude. The way he held himself changed almost everyone’s assumption about him. At a height of almost six feet, he drew attention to him, but would lose it if he didn’t make up for it with his taunting smile or insinuating eyes. 

Zayn tried to make himself stop from studying the man and classifying his looks. Playing psychologist at a time like this was almost embarrassing, even if no one could actually know what he was thinking. Behind him Louis whispered, “creep.” He could only agree.

Stanley paused for a moment and then a look of realization crossed his face. He leaned back, tugging at his dirty t-shirt. “Malik, is it? I think I’ve seen you race before, back when the old moonshine track use to be safe.”

The change of topic threw him off. Moonshine? That place has been abandoned years ago after an investigation team found what they were doing down there. What had him freezing up was the fact that he was eighteen the last time he raced that track. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, scrambling to make a sentence. “I did once, back when I was younger.”

This made the man smile, his lips peeling back to show his teeth. It made Zayn uneasy, the smile making him feel like he had an itch all over his body, one even if scratched would never get better. 

He was just about to ask him how he could remember such a thing such as a measly race, but the tall blond girls dropped their flags, signaling the start of the race. The cheers rose and any words he did make faded off.

Stanley saluted him, almost in a mocking way, whether Zayn knew it or not, and jogged off to his friend. Once again, he was left to his two friends, who were too busy jumping into the car to follow the race to understand his puzzlement. 

“Z, get in!” Louis revved the engine while rolling down the windows.

With his eyes following Stanley’s car in the mass of small dots, he got in the car. 

 

Liam knows he shouldn’t encourage Harry. He also knows once the lad starts talking there’s nothing he can do to shut him up. But he’s too enthralled in the stories he tells to actually give a fuck about working at the moment. The curly boy is focused on describing the cars and the dirt roads in which they race along. He gets so passionate about it that it makes him want to start talking about it even though he has no idea what it’s like. Well, neither does Harry, but neither of them bring that up again because then Harry will become depressed and scare the customers away.

They should be working; it’s hard to though because listening and imagining what being at one of those races would be like is so much better than changing spark plugs or checking rotors. Liam starts to feel like he could stand here all day, leaning over the front counter, while his best friend rants about how unfair it is that his friends won’t invite him along. He doesn’t have the heart to tell him that they probably think he’s too innocent to be out at a place like that; they don’t want him to get hurt.

“They could-I don’t know.” Harry was fumbling over his fingers, twiddling and stretching them in odds motions. “I just kinda wish they’d think about me. Not that I want to sound bossy or anything.”

Clearly, he didn’t know how to express his feelings. It was a struggle that Liam could identify off the bat; it was a gift he had learned over the years of being attached to the hip to this boy. Sometimes he knew how to ease the stress, but other times, like this one, he was at a lost at what he could do to make the younger boy happier. 

“Why-” He shut his mouth real quick, thinking hard about what he wanted to say next. Harry huffed out a sigh, glancing out the corner of his eyes when he spoke. “Why don’t you just go?”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but he stopped and frowned. It seemed too easy for that to be the answer to their problem. Liam continued on.

“You know a lot about this,” he said, knocking his knuckles against the counter. “You could show up and show them that you can handle yourself.”

Never mind that something could go wrong, that he could get hurt. Really, he didn’t need to think about that. If Harry wanted to go to a race, it wasn’t his responsibility to make sure he was safe and sound. Yeah, he should look out for him and things like that; what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t? 

It was a daunting question, waiting for him to slip up and say the wrong answer. He would think it couldn’t have a wrong answer since it was so warped and pulled out of place, but things are never what they seem; it was the same for people.

And as if this was a movie instead of real life, Liam looked out the window at the perfect time. 

He was wearing a black button down shirt, one side tucked in. As always his hair was clipped back by two red berates; a loose strand was tucked behind his ear. The white apron was tied in the back by a neat bow. Liam could already see it: He was reaching behind his back, not struggling at all to reach the strings. This was his routine, smoking on his break and thinking about god only knows what. It picked at Liam’s mind; he wanted to know badly what he was thinking, what he was feelings, and how those lips would feel wrapped around something else.

“Can’t believe you still haven’t talked to him yet.” Liam jumped at the sound of the younger boy’s voice. Harry shrugged it off.

“Who?”

The boy gave him a funny look. “Uh, him?”

He was pointing at the unknown stranger who still had no idea he was being talked about. Liam knew who he was talking about, he had to be an idiot if he didn’t. It’s just he didn’t want to acknowledge the tiny crush he might be developing for the dark skinned boy who he was sure he was never going to properly meet because he was anti-social and the stranger was more beautiful than anything he had seen. They were completely opposite. 

“I’m gonna do it!” Liam was startled from his deep thoughts by Harry jumping onto him. “And you’re going with me!”

He was clearly missing something. “What?”

The boy grinned from cheek to cheek. “To the race!”

 

The crowds of people were almost unbelievable. They swarmed together, chanting and yelling at the top of their lungs, until Liam was almost afraid they might explode. His heart was pounding in his chest at the view he had of the cars; he was all the way in the back and he was already like this. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be standing right next to the track, just a hair away from the cars zooming past. Almost immediately he knew something was changing; goosebumps ran up his arms and a chill went down his spine. 

Even though he was getting a rush from all the excitement, he was feeling nervous at how big the crowd was growing. It was a like once second they weren’t there and then all of a sudden there were hundreds of people circling around cars, chatting and laughing. Most were drinking, chugging down on anything they could get their hands on; Harry was no exception.

“Okay, put it down.” Liam caught the boy’s wrist and tried to pull the cup out of his hand. It was a struggle, but he finally managed to pry the boy’s firm grip off.

“No!” Harry lunged at him, knocking into his side. Though Harry was taller, Liam was able to dodge him, swinging under his arm, and catching him by the waist. The boy panted, tired already from just that. Liam wasn’t sure if it was because the boy was out of shape or if he was that drunk already. 

He wasn’t saying it was a bad thing. It just made taking care of Harry a lot more difficult. And he wasn’t expecting there to be so many people; he had enough problems with working with people at the shop. How was he suppose to endure this many?

He was almost to his limit, ready to pack it up and leave, even if Harry screamed and kicked all the way back to the car, but that was before a tall thin brunette girl ran up to them and scooped Harry into her small arms. 

“Harry!” The girl was screaming, causing many to glance over at them. Liam backed away, trying to figure out if she was a threat or just harmless. He figured harmless when Harry smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

“El, you look ravishing today,” the boy said, throwing his head back and laughing with all his might. It was comical; he was most definitely piss drunk. 

“Well thank you, but I’ve got a boyfriend that would love to kick your ass,” she giggled, playfully swatting at his cheek. The boy was all smiles and dimples at the childish flirting. Liam feared if he stood here any longer he would be infected by the gushy nicknames and heart eyes they had for each other, though it looked more like a game than actual attraction, which he was okay with until they started to turn him into their next target. 

“Liam,” Harry said with great admiration. “When did you get so handsome?”

“Do tell!” the girl then exclaimed, latching herself onto Liam this this time. Though he tried to shy away, he was pulled back by the younger boy’s long arms. They kept him in a tight grip, holding him firmly to his side. 

“But there are more interesting things going out on the track, Harry,” El (Liam guessed it was not her real name) said, looking out to where the race was about to begin. It was too dark to make out any real great details about the racers; they seemed to be normal human beings to him. He couldn’t say the same about the two who were hanging around him as if they were twin monkeys, but he let it slide for now; he couldn’t do anything about it anyway, so why would he fuss.

He scanned the crowd of people, not knowing exactly what he was searching for, but it gave him something to do rather than watching the two ‘friends’ coo over each other. He was not quite sure how he felt about them acting the way they did. However, he wasn’t going to dwell on it for long. So, he left the thoughts and started to think about why he had even agreed to tag along to this little function. The only things he could think of what that it was curiosity that had gotten to him. Good old curiosity had gotten a hold on him and had dragged him to the dark deep hole of misery. And even though he said he was scared of the people and didn’t like how it was so dark outside that he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face, Liam got this feeling that he belonged.

He was sure he had gone crazy; what he was thinking was crazy. But the situation had turned to this and he feared that it would would never return to normal. In some way, he was fine with it. After he realized his dream was never going to happen and those nightmares would never stop, life had gotten dual. 

“That’s Mike and Willie; they’ve known each other since high school.” Behind him he could hear the girl going on about the racers, explaining who was who to Harry, telling him the gossip about them that was floating around. As fascinating as it was, Liam had no interest in hearing about it.

That was before she pointed out a certain tan skinned man working under the hood.

“Those three are like a dream team,” she said, almost drooling down her chin. “They’ve never seem to lose a race; everyone knows who they are.”

Liam felt like he had been hit by a freight train; his eyes went unfocused and his mouth became dry. But the dizziness of it all didn’t last long because he would have strangled himself if he missed any moment of a certain man.

It was the first time he had ever seen him outside of the diner, or rather smoking behind the diner. The only way he could describe it was like when he had first seen his teacher outside of class. In that moment he had realized that she had existed outside of the school; she had her own life; she was human like he was. It was the same realization, that the man he had been obsessed with would actually have a life outside of smoking and looking hot on his break.

To him, it didn’t feel real.

“Zayn Malik. The champion of street racing. He won his first race when he was 18, a rookie, and hasn’t lost since.”

Liam couldn’t breathe. A man who broke the law for a living was just what he needed.

 

“Don’t tell me Stanley’s gotten to you?” Louis stood beside Zayn, his arms crossed and his head set forward. He was watching the race, judging the kids from a distance, but giving them a chance to prove themselves.

Zayn shook his head. “No.”

Stanley was nowhere on his mind; all he could think about was Mary and the diner. It was all he could think about since she had broken the news to him and now he couldn’t escape the haunting thoughts. Though he was glad a douche like Stanley wasn’t on his mind, he did wish his current thoughts would leave.

“You’re sour,” the other boy said, lifting a can of beer to his lips. “Maybe you should take a rest or something. Stop acting like a bitch.”

“Fuck off.”

Zayn was tired and he was done with everything. He felt like a ticking bomb, waiting for the perfect moment to explode. The time didn’t feel far away; naturally, he was scared what it may cause. 

The boys, Louis and Niall, were strong and could handle, to some extent, the lashings he would give out. It was not like he was going to intentionally hurt them; he just couldn’t hold back his anger.

He could feel Louis’ eyes on him, watching him like a hawk. They were close friends so he already assumed the other boy knew what he was feelings. But it wasn’t so. There was no way that either of his friends could understand what he was going through. He didn’t fully understand it himself. All he knew at the moment was that he needed to find a way to get money and fast.

That was already a problem in itself. Racing brought in a lot per race, but races were few in many and Zayn had a feeling that he didn’t have a couple months to pay the bill. A few weeks maybe, but not a few months.

He was thinking hard, so hard in fact that he didn’t even notice the race had ended.

Niall whooped, slapping him on the back, shaking him out of his deep thoughts. And then, like a miracle from above, he saw a sign. Not a religious sign or even a sign to change his ways, but a propaganda sign selling him the idea to enter a race. Now if it weren’t for him not paying attention or not enjoying his wonderful night he might have over looked the small sign posted in the window of a parked racer’s car. If it weren’t for him being such an ass for the last hour he would have never found the solution to his problem. He swore in that moment he was the luckiest man on earth.

Until Niall turned and puked in his lap.

 

“A race? You want to sign up for a race?” Louis seemed to be shocked even though racing was about the only thing Zayn would do for the last three years.

“Two hundred grand in our pockets! What are you bitching about?” Zayn paced around his living room, too excited to settle down.

“I’m not bitching,” Louis gritted out. “I’m just a little shaken up since you haven’t been this hyped up about a race since, well, forever.”

“Oh, it hasn’t been forever. It’s been a long time, I agree, but not forever.” But it did feel like forever. He wasn’t going to say it, but he couldn’t push the thought away. Just thinking about Kick Start, the race he had no doubt would get him the money to save Little Mary’s, had his heart racing faster than anything before. At the moment he could not stay still or stop talking.

Niall appeared in the doorway, snacking on what seemed to be a leftover sandwich. “You’re both forgetting something.”

Zayn laughed. “Forgetting what? That this will be our biggest success yet?”

He jumped over the couch arm and kissed Louis right on the cheek. The boy pushed him away, but it did nothing to deflate the others happiness.

“No.”

There was a hush of silence.

“We need four members to enter.”

It was one thing after another. No matter how far he got to winning there was always something to push him back. Yeah, he could give up, but then what? After defeat what would he do? Nothing. He would just disappear.

He fell back onto the couch beside Louis, a sigh escaping him. Burying his face into his hands, he asked, “What’re we going to do?”

No one had an answer.

 

Zayn tried to work like nothing had changed. Serving customers and smoking on break, he soon fell back into his regular routine. He really did try and let his mind wander to other places, to the past or to the reality of the future. He was dreaming; he knew that was for sure. Though every time he closed his eyes he was sent back to the realm of horror. It was a nightmare in which Little Mary’s was no more.

Mary had somehow managed to look past it all and carry on like her dream was about to be crushed. It made him all the more upset. For the next two days he had to hold himself back and not demand to know what she was thinking. Not even for one night could he even sleep and yet here she was, working away as if everything was find. But things were not fine. And he had no idea how to explain that to her.

During his many breaks, he had come to the conclusion that she was simply in denial. That just had to be it. If it wasn’t that then there was no hope in saving her from her own mind. Honestly, Zayn had no clue as what he was talking about. He was stressed and a break, a real break that did not conses of him smoking a whole pack and thinking about all his problems, was what he needed. 

He wasn’t sure how much good that would do, but at this time he was open to doing anything.

A few minutes pass; he smoked and stared across the street. He was admiring the view, actually calming himself down. There was a shop, small and plain looking. He could see how he could have missed it, seeing how it blended in with the tall buildings behind it. At first he thought it was a drugstore. There were many scattered around town and the name seemed to be trying too hard to stand out as many drugstores tried to do. However, the further he studied the homemade sign the more he noticed the small print below.

Well, bless his soul, it was an auto shop.

Maybe this was a sign, though he highly doubted it was. In all his life things were never this easy and he should have known when he found out about “Kick Start” that it wasn’t going to be any easy task. So, staring intently on that sign, the one with the scrawled words “Crank”, he took one last drag of his cigarette, dropped it and crushed it with the tip of his boot. He wasn’t seeking attention; there was no one there. It was just him and that sign.

When he resumed his work, taking orders and ignoring the flirty customers, he made the promise to visit the shop. He wasn’t sure where the bold thought came from or why he though he needed to go there. It was this pull of gravitation that was intent on pulling him into it until he became one with it. If that wasn’t crazy enough, he became antsy and just could not wait to get away from the diner.

That realization scared the shit out of him and Zayn wasn’t prone to fear. Things were getting weird and the only solution he could think of was to just go. When it’s said like that it seems easy, doable.

His shift ended and he stopped out of the cozy diner, his second home. Really, it was his only home after his fallout with the racetrack. After running away from the thoughts, they only came back, seeking more from him. They were sucking him dry.

But somehow it didn’t matter. The pain and the anger were only feelings then. He had become higher than those human emotions. Now, he was floating high above it all. Though when he finally made it to the shop’s front door, butterflies erupted from his stomach. Like a freight train, they plowed into him, almost knocking him back from such an impact. He was reminded he was only human and the such ideas that he was anything more were sent flying away.

 

Liam was a strong believer that all things happen for a reason. His knowledge of the subject didn’t go as deep as research and experience could go, but Harry had once said everyone believes in something where it be god or in the JFK conspiracy.

Not many concurrences could he say he had experienced the “everything happens for a reason”’ not many times did he notice it. He didn’t have a hard time admitting he wasn’t the smartest person out there. That was no secret because Harry was far more brilliant than he could ever be.

But then it happened. Well, he happened.

Liam could say he was dumb or he was horrible at socializing, but he knew what this moment was, the moment that dark haired man walked through the front door, curiously looking around as if he didn’t know where he was.

Everything happens for a reason.

Which is why Liam tripped over his feet and fell face forward on the floor.

“Jesus Christ! Are you okay?”

It wasn’t the ideal first meeting he had in mind. In fact, he had it drilled into his head that he would never meet the man who smoked behind the cute diner or competed in illegal street racing. It all seemed like a distant dream to him.

Yet, here he was, a man of such godly looks and aurora, standing before him like a gift. Or a hallucination. It was all too much to take it. He feared if he breathed the same air as him, he would be cursed because he was not worthy. Now, he sounded obsessed; and maybe he was. Was it strange he was falling for a man of great quality? It was when he talked in such a way.

“I-I’m fine.” God, he felt like letting the ground swallow him whole. His ears burned from embarrassment and his teeth bit into his lip.

The man looked around at the store, seeming to be accessing the structure and the placement of the materials, which were an old cash register and a fold able chair. Liam started to collapse into himself, but when he started thinking it might be a good idea to leave the man be, even though it was kind of his job to make sure the customers were happy. Something told him the man hadn’t come here because he was having trouble with his pistons or his gas tank. He was standing there, looking as if he didn’t quite know why he was there either.

It was Liam’s luck Harry couldn’t contain himself. He had appeared somehow magically, not alerting him that the younger boy was there and by the look on his face Liam could confer the man hadn’t noticed him either.

“How may we help you?” Harry asked, smiling wide as he always did. A hush settled over the three, but it was soon broken. “Sir?”

The man seemed caught off guard, lost in a day dream. It made Liam curious, wondering why the man looked as if he stepped into an unknown world. It puzzled Liam. The man spent days upon days working with cars; why did such a small thing such as an auto shop fascinate him?

Maybe it was the plainness of it. The shop sure didn’t look like a shop, more like a really planned out garage sale. Ben was strict on what he would pay for and Liam hadn’t really noticed how rundown the place looked until now.

The man gained a little more control of himself. “I’m Zayn. I’m looking for someone who can work on my car long term.”

It was the strangest thing he had ever heard. A man, his name Zayn, asking for a contract of sorts?

Harry didn’t know what to make of it either. “Well, um. Liam here is the one who works the car stuff.”

When Zayn’s eyes turned towards him, he froze up. His breath caught in his throat and he thought he was going to hurl. It wasn’t the best feeling in the world, especially after he had fallen on his face.

“Can we talk in private?”

“Oh. Yes.” Liam gestured to the back of the shop, still processing what was currently happening. Harry watched the two out of curiosity. Liam wondered if he had taken a real good look at Zayn and if he recognized him from the other night. If he didn’t it wouldn’t surprise him too much. The boy had had a lot to drink that night, more than he should have. Liam kicked himself for letting him have his way with the alcohol, but the kid deserved to let loose sometimes. It also wasn’t his right to babysit the kid or tell him what he could and couldn’t do.

“I’m sorry if this is so sudden.” Zayn wasn’t looking at him. He was more focused on the desk covered with papers, oil stained pencils, and rags. Now that Liam was looking at things, imagining them from Zayn’s point of view, he really saw how dirty and untidy they were. He became embarrassed though he shouldn’t have been. How would one expect a mechanic shop to look like?

“It’s alright,” he said. He meant to ask what he was needing that would be long term. Usual fixing cars took awhile, yes, but more than three months...it started to sound concerning.

Zayn stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“I’m looking for someone to upgrade a car. See, I’m in a racing business and my car will need maintenance after a race.” He locked eyes with Liam. “I don’t know this place and I don’t know you. It’s not uncommon to be ratted out to the feds in this profession. I must be out of my fucking mind to ask a stranger, someone I don’t trust, to work for me.”

Stupid. This was just stupid.

“Street racing,” Liam said.

“Yes. Street racing.”

Liam must have been out of his mind as well to even think about agreeing. But how could he let this chance slip away from him? He had promised Ben he would stay out of trouble, but when Zayn was staring at him like that it was hard to say no.

“What’s your plan?”

 

Business. This was about business.

That was what Liam kept telling himself, but all he could focus on was Zayn. The way he would lick his lips after each sip of beer or how his hair would fall into his eyes when he would talk. It was tough to turn away or to focus on anything else when he was only a few feet away. Right now, he could lean across the coffee table and touch him, a few more inches and he could kiss him.

The idea of just being in the same room as him had his toes curling.

But he wasn’t suppose to be thinking about that. He was suppose to be listening to what they were discussing: the plan to win Kick Start.

It was about an hour ago that he had arrived at this apartment, crossing his fingers that he wouldn’t pass out or make a fool of himself. When the door opened he was expecting Zayn, in his perfect glory, but instead he found a blond haired and blue eyed boy, everything that wasn’t Zayn. Once he entered the living room, he found out it had been Niall, Zayn’s team mate and friend, that had answered the door. He didn’t care though. He should have, given the circumstances that he was getting himself into. A life without trouble from the law was what he was striving for. He admits it’s for Ben’s sake more than his, but he liked being good. Until being good started being boring.

And maybe that’s why he’s here. Not to get closer to Zayn, but to actually feel like he’s living and to remember he’s not some rotting corpse. Using him as an excuse is what he’s doing. It’s great. The game feels fantastic and he’s getting more than he had invested. That’s exactly the results he wants. Who would want to lose everything and get nothing in return? It sounded like getting one’s heart broken.

But that wasn’t what he was here for. He was here for business.

“Liam, you look familiar. Did you go to Rover High?” Louis, Zayn’s other friend, asked. He was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, no doubt a player. It was surprising how fast Liam was to label the man. He was interesting to watch, smoking and raising an eyebrow to him.

“No. I-uh...dropped out my Sophomore year at West End.”

West End was a couple towns over, a tiny town that didn’t see many people. He wouldn’t be surprised if none of them had heard of it.

“Huh,” Louis said, giving him a once over. The look made Liam feel small compared to him, though he was more than positive he would tower over him if they stood up.

The conversation after that turned towards the reason why Zayn had approached him in the shop. He was glad they dropped the subject about him, more interested in hearing about Zayn and his wild adventures which weren’t really wild and he was more sarcastic about it than he should have been. But Liam didn’t care if they talked all day about cars; if he got to sit in the same room with Zayn for a couple hours he wouldn’t mind hearing about Louis’ large porn collection (it was pretty extensive) or Niall’s food fetish. What he really wanted to know more about was Zayn himself. The other two spilled their secrets like broken pinatas, but his lips were sealed shut. Liam thought if he could pry them open it would satisfy is urge for the man.

He knew it wouldn’t be that simple. He didn’t want his secrets; he wanted him. It was an unforgivable declaration, but he could not take it back or do anything that would change his mind. It was probably the one thing that had drawn him to helping the sorry team about of their bad luck. If it hadn’t been for his longing for the man then he wouldn’t be here, putting himself in front of the target. 

Zayn had been the one to tell him about the race, looking straight into his eyes. “The grand prize is 100 grand. We split the money; I take a couple more for being the actual racer and you help us out. We’re going against professionals, people I know won’t be playing around on the track.”

“We were fine by ourselves, but we found out we needed another member. A fourth person. That’s where you come in.” Louis bent over to crush out his cigarette. 

“So, I’m only here to fill up empty space?”

Louis nodded. “More or less. I mean, we wouldn’t mind having an extra pair of hands to work with. The more the merrier.”

Really, he didn’t care if he was nothing more than a set of hands or just someone to keep them from being disqualified. He wasn’t someone to get all crushed up about that sort of thing, but knowing there wasn’t another reason, a reason that maybe would involve Zayn, was a disappointing. But he wasn’t going to think about that; it wasn’t the right time.

And though he wanted to focus more on what Niall or Louis were discussing whether it be the time they set their neighbors front yard on fire or the time one of them got arrested for walking home drunk and naked, his thoughts were always trailing back to something more to his interest, or rather someone. It was not his fault, he argued in his defense to himself; the man was just too breathtaking and too mesmerizing to not gawk at. Not that he was gawking. 

He just prayed the man hadn’t noticed his long glances or the times he would become flustered when he was caught in the act. If he suspected anything, a curve of his lips when he turned his head away to make Liam believe he hadn’t noticed thing being evidence, then he barely showed it. Some moments, Liam had to wonder if he wanted to be found out or if he wanted the secret to go on longer. It was not a game he had set up purposely, just merely one he had found himself in; playing along was just fun and had no clear indication that it was his original plan or not.

When the day finally turned to night, everyone releasing yawns of exhaustion and he headed to let himself out, he felt the burning sensation of eyes watching him leave.

 

He wouldn’t say it was bad luck. In some sense he knew Ben was bound to come around and question what he was doing. It was not a matter of if he got caught; it was a matter of when he got caught. 

It was two days after Zayn had approached him, asking for his help. He felt like the whole thing was surreal, like it was not happening; but it was. When they talked about it and when he tried to listen about it, the plan seemed easy, almost fool proof. It was the most stupidest thing he could have ever believed in. 

Around two o’clock in the afternoon on Sunday, the day the shop was closed, he was under the hood of Zayn’s beautiful girl, touching her up after inspecting the well worked car. She was in great condition for being a car that had been pushed to her limits many times and ran like a champ; it didn’t take much for him to get worked up about a car, but one fine such as this one was rare to come by. She was so beautiful she had distracted him, causing him not to hear the door to the garage open and close; he did not even hear the loud footsteps of steel toe boots. 

“You haven’t eaten breakfast have you?” Of course it was Ben. If it was anyone to notice him skipping breakfast and actually worrying about it it would be him. “It’s not good for you when you’re working yourself as hard as this.”

Liam sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. He pulled back, wiping his hands clean of grease on a rag though it did little good. His skin was streaked with the black liquid, but after so many years of working with it, he barely noticed it anymore. 

“I think I can wait a few more hours,” he replied, frowning when he met Ben’s hard gaze.

A curse almost slipped out of his mouth when he realized he had left out Zayn’s requested items. 

“Noss? What the hell are you doing with that?” Before Liam could do anything, or say anything, Ben was brushing past him, peering under the hood of the car. The silence was deafening and Liam tensed up. At that moment he swore he was in for it. Ben rarely got angry, even towards him, but when he turned back around, the hairs on the back of Liam’s neck stood straight up. 

Leave. He wanted him to leave. But he knew it wasn’t going to be as simple as that.

“Special job for a friend.” He wasn’t quite lying, but he did feel like a little shit for saying it. Zayn wasn’t really his friend anyway.

Ben’s jaw locked in place, clenching tight as he stared him down. He felt like puking, but kept his ground, looking Ben in the eyes. It must have convinced him some because he broke eye contact and turned to leave.

“I don’t even give a fuck.” Too much like the Ben he knew. “Just don’t get yourself fucking killed.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Ben snorted at the joke, waving goodbye before he closed the garage door. Then after a few minutes, Liam finally let his breath out.

With one hand on the car to steady himself, he closed his eyes and rested before he turned back to work.

 

Liam said he wasn’t going to go. He said he would go home straight from the race and go to sleep. He ended up going to the party anyway.

He wasn’t sure why he had thought that they wouldn’t win the practice race, maybe it was his doubt in his skills or maybe he just didn’t think. And he does that a lot, not thinking. There would be empty space in his mind as he looked out at people, Zayn not being one of them because it was hard not to think when Zayn was around and not to think about how he might look with his face buried in a pillow or down on his knees. 

When Liam would think those thought, which was all the time, his face would heat up and his ears would burn. He always felt so ashamed afterwards, like the times he would have his hands in his pants and would accidentally think about Zayn. But it wasn’t his fault; he would try to explain that to himself, but it would never get through. Like connection was being lost between his dick and his head. That would explain a lot of misunderstandings in his life.

But one thing he knows isn’t a misunderstanding is the way some shit head is hanging off of Zayn. 

Liam knows he’s piss drunk; before they got to the race track he was seeing stars and swirls in the sky. The guys had loaded up on booze, chugging it like there was no tomorrow. Not wanting to feel like the odd ball out, he grabbed a can or bottle, whatever he could get his hands on, and drank as much as he could in one gulp. Which turned out to be more than he had thought, enough to finish to finish a bottle in two drinks.

They didn’t need his ass anyhow; Harry would be the one to take care of him for a change on the sidelines. But Liam wanted to watch. He wanted to be close to the track as possible even if he was in Niall’s and Louis’ way. 

When they arrived at the track, he swore Harry was going to have a melt down. He could already tell that this was what the boy had been waiting for: a chance at freedom. It was the same thing he had been reaching for since he was a young teen, choosing wrongs paths and wandering around until he found a place he liked to be which was under Ben’s care. Though he had not planned it all to turn out that way.

He was pushing the edge of seventeen when he had fallen under Ben’s care. By then he was on the streets, running with a gang that was known for tossing around weed and getting high under the school bleachers. After about a year, Ben had straightened up, telling him that if he didn’t pull his shit together he would rip him another.

Liam didn’t hang out with his old pals after that.

Realization struck him; he did not miss his old “friends”. They didn’t seem to notice his absence and he didn’t care for the most part. What really shook him was the fact that life could go one without those needs, without the old people he had hung out with. Maybe it was why he felt so empty standing on the track. Zayn was something else and Liam felt he might never get to explore the wonders of being inside of Zayn’s bubble. He almost felt like an outcast even though Niall and Louis made sure he was included.

He didn’t understand why he felt like he was being pushed away.

“Liam!” Harry had yelled over the screaming crowd that was cheering the racers on. “Get back here!”

It wasn’t the first time Liam started to wander off and it wouldn’t be the last. He couldn’t sit still, always having to move or twitch or talk no matter how sleepy he got. The more he stayed still the greater the itch to break the spell of his calmness grew. His mind was torn between watching Zayn and giving him his full attention and ignoring him like the plague to make it seem like he wanted nothing to do with him, which was so fucking untrue it hurt his head.

Two arms had wrapped around his waist, hoisting him off of the ground and pulling him back to where they are claimed their “spot”. He squirmed against the tight hold, but failed. Frustrated with himself and basically everyone around him, he threw a fit for the next five minutes, but after that was fine for the rest of the race. 

Which they won.

He should be happy; he should be proud. If he wanted to think of Zayn for the rest of the night then he could because they had won. But he shouldn’t be feeling shitty or lonely or even jealous that everyone was seeking for Zayn’s attention and he was giving it to them. The man could not help himself though. He wanted and he wanted him so badly.

It just felt like war against himself every time he tried to fa-fill his feelings.

God. He rubbed his eyes. He sounded like some pervert or something, spouting all this crap about being jealous and feelings. Honestly, he was not a controlling person. It was just something about Zayn that brought these urges out of him and it scared him most of the time. These were things he was not used to feeling and if he could, he would make them go away for good.

 

Zayn felt smug with himself. He felt like he was on top of the world, looking down at everyone. Though he felt this invisible quality in his body, shielding him from the dangers of the world that might try and knock him down a peg, he knew it was not going to last. Irreplaceable the feeling of want and the feeling of being complete were, he could not substitute money or the rush of being looked up as a god. What he once loved now turned to be something he dreaded. 

His life was falling apart, piece by piece.

A beer had made its way into his hand, who ever had given it to him had gone unknown. Standing away from the large crowd, he enjoyed being not bothered until the swarm of people started, telling him how cool he was out on the track and if he wanted they could sneak up to the upstairs bedrooms. He declined the offers of course; he wasn’t that drunk for a one night stand with someone from this small of a town because no matter what anyone does, you always end up with more than you bargained for. 

The smugness had thankfully washed away less than five minutes after he started getting tired of being hit on. There were people who recognized him from the diner and tried to make small talk with him. As much as he wanted to tell this to fuck off, he couldn’t push himself to do it. His usual rudeness had washed away; maybe from the alcohol but he wasn’t sure.

He was ready to call it night, head upstairs and sleep, but before he made it to the kitchen, a hand grabbed his elbow.

It was Matthew.

“Hey,” he said, a lopsided grin on his face. 

Confused by his appearance and the fact that he didn’t greet him with an insult, Zayn did not have an immediate reply. He stuttered causing Matthew’s grin to widen. He glanced up the stairs, tilting his head.

“Were you heading upstairs?” 

Gaining some control, Zayn finally managed to force some words out of his mouth. “Uh...yeah.”

He couldn’t really say anything else; the man’s hand was burning his skin. As if he had read Zayn’s thoughts, his fingers massaged into his skin. Zayn would have been a fool to not notice.

“Are you looking for someone to join you?”

That was not what he had been expecting to hear. He sputtered, so tired and drunk to know what to say. What was he suppose to say? His enemy was asking if he would like to join him upstairs and to do what? Fuck?

It was one thing for him to want to beat his ass; it was another to want to fuck his ass.

“I—”

“He’s busy at the moment.” He froze at the second voice, another hand pulling him back against a warm body. 

Matthew looked alarmed, fighting to keep a grip on Zayn. “And who are you?”

The scene sounded so cliche and Zayn wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him up. The alcohol was finally wearing off of him, his body becoming sluggish and tired; he was also fed up with being tossed around like a rag doll.

“A friend.” It was the last words he heard before he was being dragged upstairs and into his room.

 

Through the dark, he could make out the outline of Liam’s moving form. He should have known it was him; how could he have forgotten that voice?

“You didn’t have to save me. I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“He looked like he was about to eat you.”

“Eat me out, you mean.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Less struggle I guess. Maybe I would have ridden his face.”

“Then maybe I should have left you to it.”

Zayn snorted. “Nah. I wouldn’t let him shake my hand let alone stick his tongue inside me.”

“Goodnight.”

He turned over on his side, snuggling into the bedding. “Goodnight.”

 

“Shit. I need to take a piss.”

Still half asleep, Zayn rolled out of his bed, his head pounding and a sour taste at the back of his mouth. He knew right away it wasn’t from giving “gifts”, more so from chugging beer left and right even though he hated beer with a passion. It was one of those things that he did without thinking it through, a prime example of what he shouldn’t being doing with his life. But of course, he fucked what he had left and never strove for things out of his reach. It was probably why he wasn’t happy on his own.

The bedroom door was wide open and he could see the bathroom across the hall, vacant, through blurry eyes. With a yawn, he wobbled across the hallway, supporting himself against the door frame once he made it. He closed the door as best as he could while hungover, leaving a tiny crack.

He tugged down his pants, whipping his dick out, releasing the ache in his bladder. He had just finished, ready to tuck himself back in, when the door flew open.

“Shit—sorry!” A body crashed into his, the door slamming shut and his hip hitting the edge of the sink. Pain shot up through his back, causing him to cry out as he tried to move out of the way. It proved to be difficult when his pants were falling down, revealing more of himself than he was comfortable with.

But he was drunk and by the smell of their breath, so was the one bumping into him. He was not sure how they got the door shut or how they twisted themselves up into a mess of limbs; all he could remember was that the bathroom was small and his dick was flapping around, prouder than an America flag on the Fourth of July. 

His knee knocked against theirs and they both groaned. It was not until he was holding himself up using the person’s arms that he could see through his hazy eyes. Who he was sharing this embarrassing moment was none other than the man he had dreamed about, which he wanted to forget about: Liam.

Then he did the worst thing he could do at that moment.

He kissed him.

The urge to press his lips against his was greater than his self control. Control was nonexistent, especially when he was as drunk as he was. There was a split second, maybe less than that, before he pounced onto the unsuspecting target, throwing his arms around his neck and crashing his mouth onto his. A tiny moan escaped from his mouth when Liam parted his lips, inviting him inside. Between them, his cock rubbed against the front of their jeans, growing harder with each breathtaking kiss.

He had no idea what he was doing. All there was was a fire of need and a tango of tongues, fighting each other for dominance. Liam pushed him back, moving until he had Zayn backed up against the sink counter. His hands slipped in between them, grasping a firm hand onto Zayn’s dick, slicking over the tip with a curious thumb. Zayn gasped, tilting his head back. Liam took the opportunity, biting into the exposed flesh, licking and sucking however he pleased. 

But Zayn could tell he was hesitant, they both were. It was a rush; doing this, in a bathroom none the less, was something he never would have imagined would have happened. 

It was though and he would have to be a fool to stop it now. Big hands grabbed the back of his thighs, hoisting him up and setting him down on the counter. 

“Wait-Wha-”

Liam dropped to his knees before he could get another word out, taking his member into his mouth without out warning.

“Shit,” he gasped out, his hands shooting to Liam’s hair without thinking. He moaned as he sucked the tip, running his tongue along the underside of his length. Those lips tightened around him, the hot and wet mouth constricting around his dick. “Fuck.”

He fought against himself to not buck up into Liam’s heated mouth. Biting his lip, his hand traveled under his shirt, toying with his ticklish skin and happy trail. A moan slipped out and he gasped to catch his breath. The air was being sucked out of him every time Liam’s tongue dipped into the slip of his cock, a rush of pleasure causing him to get harder and closer to his release.

His hands traveled further up his chest, grazing over his already swollen and sensitive nipples. He pinched and rolled them around with his fingers. This was new; he had never had the urge to touch himself in such a place, but it was proving to be a better experience than he had thought. 

Liam looked up at him, holding his gaze as he increased his pace, bobbing up and down on his wet and sticky dick. “Take that dick so well. Got a beautiful mouth.”

At this point, Zayn didn’t give a fuck if he was making a fool of himself. He was close to cumming and his hips thrust up by accident, choking Liam as the tip of his cock hit the back of his throat. Liam sputtered, but managed to gain back control.

“Sorry,” Zayn moaned out, licking his lips and combing a hand through Liam’s hair, tilting the boy’s head back so that he could see clearly the way his lips wrapped around him. The sight wanted him to fuck his mouth, but knew that it would not happen, at least not now. “I-I’m gonna cum.”

Liam answered by humming and sucking harder. 

“Wait.” Zayn tried to push him off, but was held back by his hands. His stomach clenched and he thrust one more time before cumming down Liam’s throat.

In a haste, he ripped Liam off of him and fixed himself. “Sorry-God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Liam reached out for him, but he dodged it, knocking against the bathroom wall. “What’re you—”

“Just-I’ve gotta go—”

Liam tried once again to catch him, but Zayn was already gone.

 

The rain poured heavily down, creating puddles and dampening leaves and grass. Liam was caught in the downpour, a victim to its steady assault. He’d given up on the umbrella  
tucked under his arm that refused to open up no matter how many times he tried. His clothes were already soaked through, his shoes a total loss and would need to be thrown out when he got home. If he ever did make it home.

His other arm held grocery’s thankfully saved by their plastic wrapping from the rain. Even still, he worried. By the looks of the clouds, the storm was not going to be ending soon. His best bet was to hurry home and take safety in his apartment. The promise of dry clothes and a warm bed made his feet move faster.

When he turned the corner, taking a short cut to the main road he had learned of when he first moved here, he knocked against someone. The bags of groceries he had been holding fell from his arms, splattering on the pavement. A gush of air was punched from his lungs and his slippery wet shoes skid across the ground. He regained his balance when he fell against the brick wall of a building. 

“Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going. Do you need help—”

Liam stood still, the groceries and the umbrella completely forgotten. The past few days he hadn’t been entirely honest with the rest of the world or himself. He’d locked away for a while, just to gather what was left of him. He swore he was fine.

Zayn tried to smile. “Oh, hey. I didn’t realize—um, you live around here?”

Liam nodded numbly. He didn’t try to fake his emotions like him. He didn’t have the energy or the patience. “Up the street. With Harry.”

Something crossed Zayn’s face, but was quickly covered. 

“Do you need help or—” He didn’t wait for a reply, just bent over and began picking up the fruit and cans, carefully placing them back into the bag even though they both knew the good was ruined. He even grabbed the umbrella covered in gravel and mud.

He handed them to Liam and he took them with slight hesitance, but didn’t say anything.

“You should-uh, get back I guess. Wouldn’t want to keep Harry waiting or anything like that.” 

Liam’s arms tightened around the bag as he frowned. “Harry?”

“You don’t have to say anything. At the race-I shouldn’t have assumed you were-never mind.” He started to walk away, waving the rest of the conversation off. “See you around.”

“Hey, wait!” Liam dropped the ruined fruit, taking off after Zayn.

He grabbed Zayn by the arm, jerking him to a stop. “What are you talking about?”

Water dripped down into Zayn’s eyes. He licked his lips as he said, “You’re together right? I’m sorry about the other day. We were both drunk.”

Liam shook his head. “No. No! We’re—”

How could he have let him believe him and Harry were a thing. That day in the bathroom, it was all that he could have ever wanted and more. If only he could tell Zayn that. Leaving him dangling on a string was the last thing he wanted to do, but telling him—he could barely form words when they stood this close.

Zayn nodded his head, stepping away from him. “You don’t have to say anything. I’ll leave. Forget about it.”

Liam growled in frustration. “That’s not what I’m trying to say!”

Giving up trying to explain it in words, he took Zayn’s face into his hands and kissed him with all his anger. The forceful kiss turned from rough to gentle, catching Zayn off guard and barely holding on. Liam pulled back, one last small kiss to the corner of Zayn’s mouth.

“I’m not sorry about any of it,” he whispered against Zayn’s lips. Their labored breathing mixed together and Liam became intoxicated by it. He took Zayn’s lips into another heated kiss, this time dwelling in it longer, memorizing every part of his mouth. Zayn moaned when Liam’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip, opening a tiny fraction so he could enter with no resistance.

This time when they pulled away Liam held onto Zayn by his waist, pulling him as close as possible.

“I think,” Zayn laughed, “we should leave. I’m not fond of colds.”

Chuckling, Liam kissed his forehead. “My place?”

They end up not making it back to Liam’s place. Their feverish hands raked over each others body, seeking warmth from the cold air around them. The rain had stopped and the sun had gone to sleep, calling out to the moon to take its place. Liam tries to focus on unbuttoning Zayn’s jacket, but the way Zayn touched his skin softly, like he was breakable made his mind go fuzzy. He couldn’t think about anything but being under the mercy of those strong yet gentle hands. He found it so strange that a man like him, who hated being weak or handled like a woman, could throw those ideas away for another man.

Caring was past him. When their clothes were finally loosened on them, but still on them in case someone happened to venture down the alley, he shoved Zayn up against the brick wall, holding him so his back was flushed with his front. 

His lips ghosted across Zayn’s neck, kissing and pressing into the skin. Zayn tipped his head back, gasping when Liam’s hand disappeared into the front of his pants, grasping onto hip, tugging and pulling. It hurt so bad and Liam couldn’t wait to be inside of him.

“Gonna take me? Want me to fill you up?” The words were spilling from his mouth before he could even think about it. He felt like a whole different person when he was with Zayn, like he was in control and he was never in control.

Zayn moaned, pushing back against Liam’s hard on. He could feel it through his pants and he tried to pull them down from his waist, so that he could feel all of him, but his hands were slapped away. 

“Be good.” Zayn whined in his throat. He tried one more time to relieve himself of his restraint; Liam grabbed his hands and held them above his place where he couldn’t touch himself or Liam.

Liam thrust his hips against Zayn’s, releasing a moan at the contact. He could only imagine how much better it would be if they were touching skin to skin. The way Zayn pleaded and whined in a matter of minutes had his dick hard and leaking. He would not be surprised if he exploded in his pants from the way Zayn ground his ass against his cock, just begging to be fucked.

Zayn gasped when Liam moved from his front, prodding a curious finger at his pulsing hole. “G-God.”

“You look so good. So pretty.” Liam kissed the back of his head, the tip of his finger now gently fucking in and out of his ass. “Wanna fuck you so bad, but it’s getting dark.”

Zayn groaned and pushed against the finger, sucking in just a bit more until it was up to the second knuckle.

Like a brick wall, reality hit Liam. He had Zayn where he wanted, begging for him to do anything to ease his “problem”. But he felt a little sour from the other night.

He pushed his finger in until his hand was flushed against the fair skin of Zayn’s ass, the knuckle stretching his pink rim more than it looked like it could take. Though it was obvious this wasn’t the first time he’d had his ass played, it made Liam wonder if he had let just anyone stick their fingers into one of his most private parts.

The thought made his heart flutter, making him feel like he was kind of special. 

“Sh. I’ve got you.” His other hand slipped to Zayn’s front and took a firm hold of his cock. Taking it slow, he pumped down his length in calm strokes, thumbing over the slit and tightening when he got down to the base. 

“I’m-I’m-” One touch of Liam’s cock to his aching hole sent him over the edge, barring down on Liam’s finger and his dick shooting load after load onto the pavement and brick walls.

Liam cleaned him up as best as he could. He pulled his pants up, buttoning and zipping them up with care. Zayn felt pampered and a little flustered at being taken care of. He’d never thought being not in charge would feel like such a relief.

“You’re so cute when you come. Letting out little gasps and squirming so much.” Liam pinched his ass at that before taking him into a warm hug.

Zayn frowned. “But you didn’t-”

“It’s fine.”

He wanted so that it wasn’t fine, that it was his fault for running away, for not being man enough to take on his own irresponsibility. But Liam was already leading him away from the back alley, pulling him close and making him forget about problem he had left unresolved.

 

It’s dark. Rain pelts against the windowpane, leaving behind streams, puddles, and steamy kisses against the glass. A hand touches the cold surfaces and sighs when the hot flesh is slightly relieved. There is a clam silence that fills the empty room; it is nothing like the darkness that cuddle it. The two seem inseparable. As if they complete each other in a way that can never be understood.

Liam know right away this is a dream. The smells, feelings, are all wrong in slight ways. What he notices right away is that there are now shadows. In dreams, reality gets mixed up, mushed together with fantasy until they start looking the same, but the conscious can tell a lie from the truth, the same with a fake. 

All around him things move slower, almost as if they are being drained by time, sucked dry of their true pace. He smells the blood before he sees it. It’s a strong smell that makes his body shut down, turning into itself, shaking with unknown terror. But this isn’t unknown. This dream, he’s had it before. These walls and this window, they aren’t from his mind, something he made up on his own, these are real. 

Liam can’t move; he sucks in a deep breath, but cries inside when the air doesn’t fill his lungs or even enter his body. His thoughts are running in circles, seeking for an answer; except, there is no answer. This isn’t the real world; this is a dream.

So, he can’t die.

But the fear is there. As the hand reaches out from him, having lost interest in the cold and foggy window, it latches onto his face, the long bony fingers wrapping almost impossibly around his face. They jerk him forward until he is falling into the wanting black mist.

 

“Can I suck your dick?”

Louis leaned over the counter, whispering not so quietly in Harry’s ear. He had come over about ten minutes ago, obviously wanting to get closer to the curly lad. By the looks of it, Harry wouldn’t mind to get a free blow job.

A rolled up magazine flew through the air and hit Louis across the face.

“What the hell?”

Liam laughed from where he was sitting, resting on his break until Ben came to the front to yell at him for slacking off.

“Keep it down you love birds. Ben’ll have your head for that.” Louis pouted, but went back to fawning over Harry who was red as a pepper.

The door opened to the shop and Liam looked up to greet the customer; he was knocked back when the person wasn’t just any customer but Zayn.

It was true he hadn’t stopped thinking about him since they met in the back alley. Liam blushed at the memories; he had never acted like that around anyone before. The things he said that day, the way he pushed Zayn around, it was like some beast had taken control of him. It wasn’t him who had done those things; it had been someone else!

However it might seem, it was him who had been in that alley, who had kissed Zayn back. He could never forget the way his skin and his lips had burned, the way he heart beat wildly in his chest. It had been the most embarrassing thing he had ever felt, but also the best thing. What had happened between the two of them had turned his world upside down and he didn’t know what was up and what was down. Nothing was like it had been before; he was lost and confused.

“Zayn.” He wanted to smack himself, but it was too late because Zayn was rushing towards him, looking like heaven and hell all at once. 

“God. Thought it would be forever before I would see you again.” Zayn wrapped his arms around Liam, drawing him close and kissing him firmly on the lips. Dazed and even more confused, Liam could only return the kiss, clutching onto the sleeves of Zayn’s leather jacket.

Breathless, Liam pulled back. “What’s going on?”

Zayn kissed him once again before answering. “They moved the race up. It’s tonight.”

“What? Why would they do that?” Louis interrupted them, Harry listening in.

Zayn shook his head. “Stanley’s been giving them a hard time, even threatened them with the coyotes. I knew that gang was taking things too far.”

“Do you think they would actually do something?” Liam asked, worried they might hurt anyone to just win a race.

“Violence is natural to them. I’m not sure, but I wouldn’t be too surprised.”

Louis jumped up with giddiness. “We better beat their asses then! Put them right in their places.” 

Harry smiled at the other boy with endearment. Liam couldn’t handle it though. It took all he had to contain himself. He felt like he had just won Zayn over and now he was going to lose him. 

Zayn nuzzled his neck, his breath fanning over the hot Liam’s hot skin. The veins in his neck bulged and Zayn took that as an invitation run his wet tongue them. Liam shook, but tried to not let it show too much; the others might see.

Zayn whispered against his skin, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You’re not scared.” It wasn’t a question; the fact that Zayn wasn’t even a tad worried about his safety had him frightened even more. The reassurance that the man would at least try and keep himself in one piece did not exist; it increased the stakes of the whole ordeal.

“I’m not going to die,” he said, humor laced in his voice. “Not when I have you to come back to.”

Liam’s words were stuck in his throat. His smile could hardly be contained and if it weren’t for the two pairs of eyes burning into him he might have exploded. But he somehow kept himself from falling apart.

For now that it.

“Alright, you love birds.” Louis repeated the same words Liam had said to him. Somehow it eased over the remaining tension in the room and the racing of his heart. Tonight, he wouldn’t be sleeping; he would up all night helping the rest of the team prepare for the most important win. 

No one had to tell him that this race was a live or die situation for Zayn. The clues were written all over the man’s face and his actions. If they mess this up, it would all go down the drain and he was sure Zayn would pay the price for their fuck up. 

It put a lot of weight on Liam’s shoulders, but he knew it had to be done. If not for himself, then for Zayn.

 

Across the lane a girl waved them down. It took Liam a couple minutes to realize it was the girl Harry had been hanging all over the first night they watched a race; Eleanor he thought her name was.

“El! You never text me back!” Harry threw himself into the small girl’s arms. Louis didn’t look impressed and glared over the top of Harry’s head. It was a fail given that he was the shortest in the group. “You’re staying for the race, right?”

“With these guys going against the coyotes? Anyone would be crazy to miss that.” Her excitement didn’t help Liam’s uneasiness, but her smile was contagious, even if Louis didn’t think so.

“I think we should be going. Right Harold?” Louis threw his arm around Harry, pulling him back into his chest.

“Uh.” Louis’ grip got tighter and Harry stuttered. “Right!”

Eleanor smiled a knowing smile. “See you boys later?”

And before Liam knew it, she was gone and the race was starting. A few things were clearly different from any regular street race and Kick Start. One, the traffic, hustle and bustle, and the side fights were contained. Two, the girls and boys showing themselves off were dressed, if you could say, classier. The blood in Liam’s veins pumped faster and the familiar itch came back to him.

He was thrown into a pit of ecstasy, climbing higher to the clouds, a place he hadn’t been in a long time. The state of shock had thrown him off at first, but when he put his finger on what was familiar about this feeling, it was too late; he was in heaven.

Cars passed with incredible speed, taking his breath away each time they passed. Around the track they went, but only one car could keep his attention. And the reason Zayn was fighting for this win, charging on with his life extended on his forearm to take this race home, popped up in his mind.

This was it. After this point he would no longer be able to turn back. Time would flow forward and the world would not wait for him to follow. It all or nothing; it was now or never. The thought of being left behind had the muscles in his legs flexing, yearning to feel the burn of the run. 

In a flash, headlights blinded him, the final lap was upon them; the end was here. Would he make it through it? Was this something he could commit to?

It didn’t seem to matter in that instant; time or death didn’t matter when the pedal was down, tires skidding and kicking up dust in their wake. In the air a thick fog of excitement loomed over the audiences heads and a hush settled over them. This was the only time silence had appeared over them, the rest of the time they were restless and trampled over each other to just get a glimpse.

Confrontation, that’s what it was. A final point in which the winner would also be the victor. Nothing could have prepared Liam for this. He felt like he was connected with these people, like they were one with one another. They felt the same thing, saw what he saw, and heard what he heard. 

The silence lifted and the cheers took over. People jumped and clapped, some booed and some laughed. When Niall punched him in the arm, he knew they had done it.

They had won.

The four of them, Liam, Niall, Louis, and Harry, rushed to the track, crowding around Zayn’s car. Smoke drifted from under the hood and burnt rubber filled the air. Louis was the first one there, the first one to open the door, even before Zayn could fully turn the car off, and the first one hug him. Swarms of excited people tried to get as close as possible, trying desperately to see the face of the person who had won. 

Liam was afraid he would never make it to him, would never be able to hug or kiss him the way he wanted at that moment. The pain and longing in his chest grew stronger the more he stared from afar, barely able to make out the planes of Zayn’s face. 

But he wouldn’t have to wait much longer. As if feeling the same feeling, Zayn drifted from the masses of people wanting his attention, scanning around him. When their eyes met each others, nothing really matter. Getting high or feeling important, Liam didn’t want that anymore; he wanted Zayn. 

And maybe it took him a while to figure that out, he wouldn’t go back and change one bit. All along, being loved and being near Zayn was all he needed.

 

Somehow they made it someone’s house. Louis wouldn’t leave Harry, Niall was off somewhere getting drunk, and Liam—well Liam was trying to find Zayn. In a mass of hysteria, they had been separated from each other. All he wanted was to be close to him, congratulate him properly, but other things, other people, were always interrupting them. 

He walked around searching through the throngs of dancers, avoiding girls who batted their eyes or boys who grinned at him. Those distractions then lead him to walking outside. He had meant to get fresh air. What he received was the sight of Matthew Stanley kissing Zayn.

 

The first thing Zayn did when they arrived at the party was call Mary. He kept biting his lip and tapping his foot. The adrenaline from the race had not yet subsided and all he wanted to do was the break the good news to the person he had won this race for. Except, she wasn’t picking up her phone.

So, he kept calling. Redialing, checking sure he got the number right, but he had memorized this number the first week he started working at Little Mary’s. From how many times he called each day, talked to her for so many hours, he would know what the digits were. He could even hear her voice echoing in his head because that was how many times he had spoken to her, how many times at night he was talk to her about his problems because she was like a mother to him.

He began to worry. Five missed calls later, he felt like he was going to hyperventilate. The trees in the distance looked so far away and the sky was dark, empty without any stars claiming space inside of it.

He was about to give and go back inside, wait until morning to call her again. Liam was also someone he needed to talk to, someone he really needed to see. Life just had a way of getting in between them, pushing them apart though they fought hard enough to get close to each other.

What he really wanted to know was what they were. What would they do now when Liam wasn’t held to contract to work for him? 

If the things that had gone on between was anything then they had to be something. It couldn’t just be Zayn’s imagination.

With those thoughts haunting him, he slipped his phone into his pocket and turned to head back to the party. But a dark figure stepped into his pathway and a hand slid around his waist.

“I haven’t seen you in a while. Thought you could leave me in the dust?”

Zayn was too slow to react; lips crashed into his and a tongue swiped along his bottom lip. His hands went to push the person away, but they were snatched and roughly shoved against the wall of the house. 

When he could finally manage the strength and shake off the surprise, he pushed the person away. It should have dawned on him that it wasn’t just anyone but Stanley.

“What the fuck?” were the only words he could manage as he wiped his mouth. He panted as Stanley dared to take a step forward, inching closer so their noses touched.

But he didn’t get any closer than that when a hand snatched him by the collar of his t-shirt and threw him back.

Liam knocked him back with another blow to his shoulders. “Do I even need to say a fucking word?”

Stanley shook his head and glanced one last time at Zayn before running off. 

Zayn scoffed. “Don’t think that macho act can work on me.”

The air felt like it was sucked out of his lungs when Liam’s arms caged him in. His head leaned back against the house and he smiled up at the frowning man. “Didn’t hurt you did he?”

Zayn couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on. I’m no damsel in distress. Rough me up as much as you want, not going to hurt me a bit.”

“Then you don’t mind if we head back to my place, do you?” 

Liam was closer to him now, a breath away from his face. His lips caught Zayn’s attention, putting him into a daze. Breathlessly, he said, “I’d really like that.”

Liam smiled and kissed him then, taking his hand into his own and lead him away from the party.

 

Liam woke up again, this time screaming at the top of his lungs. The fact was, the dreams never stopped happening. He didn’t know what he thought would happen, that they would suddenly just melt away or cease to exist. The only thing that had changed since he finally learned he was deeply in love with Zayn was that the dream had turned from an unknown face to Zayn’s. 

The man stalking towards him wasn’t just any man now, but the man he loved and the one he slept beside each night now that they had moved in together.

He never figured out why the dreams occurred or what they could possibly mean. Dreams were said to have a theme or a message to the dreamer, but Liam could find none inside the cryptic codes. The symbols was skewed beyond all recognition and all he could get out of it was a haunting image that wouldn’t let him sleep for the rest of the night.

So, he did what he could. He turned on his side and snuggled up to Zayn, cradling him in his arms and hoping that the dream did mean just that.

Nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> wattpad: @ijakegirl


End file.
